October

from A Year Beside the Banks of Broad Run

A leafless grove surrounds the graveyard. Gnarled
Branches stretch like fingers towards the lonely
Monuments where none have come to show
Their vast, eternal love with tears (or stars)
Upon their eyes – or stand and cast a slow
And careful gaze of reminiscence. Today
The rushes that grew green have grown to grey.
 
And so I walked alone and lonely beside
The memories of those who cast their lot
A century before. I sighed a sigh.
Above the stones, a trinity of cypresses
Grasped up towards the sky (or up towards God).
“And now I guess the time is come,” I thought,
“When we remember those whom time forgot.”


Originally published in Virginia Writers Club – Golden Nib Winners (2023)
Won 3rd Place in Northern Virginia Chapter